


If you love something, set it free. If it doesn't come back? Hunt it down and kill it.

by mikemunhoe



Category: Far Cry (Video Games), Far Cry 5
Genre: M/M, Schizophrenia
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-25
Updated: 2018-11-25
Packaged: 2019-08-29 05:09:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,942
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16737712
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mikemunhoe/pseuds/mikemunhoe
Summary: An alternative perspective of how the post-opening of Far Cry could have gone, instead of Dutch finding the deputy first.





	If you love something, set it free. If it doesn't come back? Hunt it down and kill it.

He could feel the barbs ripping his uniform apart, tearing the cloth as he yanked them from the metal thorns. A snarling was approaching from behind, and fast. He was so close to scaling the fence when he heard the chainlink shake and then felt a weight pull him down. The Judge had grabbed him by his leg, dangling in mid air from his jaw power alone. Judas cried out in pain as he kicked the wolf off with his free leg, busting the canine in the snout and managing to scramble over the fence. The drop was a good 8 or 10 feet and he landed hard in the dirt. His shoulder would be sore later, but he was free. He crawled back from the Judge that now slammed itself against the fence again and again. It was a scrawny little thing, smaller than most wolves he’d seen, a runt, one of Jacob’s personal pets.

Speak of the devil. Past the rabid wolf, a few yards away, was Jacob Seed, approaching as if he had all the time in the world. His radio in one hand, held to his mouth as he shouted orders, and a cherry red pistol gripped in the other. To the man’s left and right were cages filled with other captives. They collectively reached out through the bars as he passed, trying to grip something they could not find, could not fathom. Every voice in him told him to run, and he did, despite his leg screaming out in protest. He prayed that gun was loaded with bliss bullets as he heard the first couple of shots ring out through the forest.

And now he had found himself here; He sat in the back of his old van, the cruddy old 1990 Ford E-150 Chinook he had lived in for the majority of his life time, one of the travel ones with the high top ceiling and the tiny little living space. He had barely escaped Jacob’s hunters, limping through the rocky terrain of the Whitetails. Lucky for him he had found his van where he left it and was able to do a loop around to ditch the hunters, hot on his tail. He ignored his wounds as he started up the van and hightailed it out of the mountains, heading for the more densely wooded outskirts of Holland Valley instead. He parked the van next to a small creek and got out to clean his wounds in the fresh, crisp water.

Judas had cried while bandaging his hands and legs, not from the numbing pain, but from the deep sickness and urge to drink that it stirred in his stomach. Said stomach ached for nutrition in general. Jacob hadn’t completely starved him like most prisoners, but it was barely enough to survive on. Judas wasn’t the smartest man, but he knew how to train a wild dog and he knew Jacob was trying to use the same dependency tactics with him. He knew that and yet some deep twisted part of him didn’t seem to mind. The part he hated most was cleaning himself and how his bones jutted out against his palms as he scrubbed the dirt from every part of him, every pale crevice. The feeling made him cringe into himself as he scrubbed the dried blood from his face and watched the water of the creek turn a light pink as it was carried through the currents.

The fresh shirt and boxers he had put on no longer hugged his form, but the crispness of clean clothes was a comfort that he had missed so much. His hands shook from the pain of holding a spatula or pan, but the smell of boiling egg yolk was a welcoming aroma to his senses. Yet, as he sat down on the small couch that, had offered him so many years of rest, he couldn’t help but miss his captor’s presence and the energy he had brought with him. And as he ate those scrambled eggs he couldn’t take his eyes off the walkie talkie that rested next to the small sink, empty of dishes. The crying boy next to him begged Judas to radio Jacob, begged him for the protection the man brought along with him. The voice of a 50 year old smoker, lounging somewhere by the driver’s seat, called him a faggot for even thinking like that. A small elderly woman’s voice cried for him to stay safe, told him ‘love’ was not always worth the risk. The little boy didn’t like that word, the smoker called the boy a faggot too, telling the other two that calling Jacob would be giving into submissiveness. But he himself whose voice was louder than the cacophony of dead that echoed in the van remained silent as he picked up the walkie talkie and settled back onto the couch.

Jude solemnly tuned his radio to the frequency Jacob had had him memorize. He held down the button and whispered “Jacob… Jacob, it’s Judas”. He let go of the button and there was a short pause of scrambling white noise and then the type of static that only exists in a silent room, in someone else preparing to respond.  
“It’s early” A gruff voice said. Judas let out a sigh of relief, really the opposite of how someone would respond to hearing Jacob Seed on their radio.  
“I’m sorry” Jude said, not quite in a whisper, but a low and monotone voice. The type of noise a throat strains to maintain, causing his words to quake.  
“I know. You should be”  
“I shouldn’t have left”  
“I know, pup” Jacob groaned irritably. Judas wasn’t sure how he felt about the nickname. It made him feel at home or like he was in some playful relationship. But he also knew that wasn’t right, that Jacob wasn’t the type of man to be seeking such a thing from, and that’s what really made him uncomfortable. There was some shuffling on Jacob’s end and then relative silence. All that remained of his presence was the occasional faint cough accompanied by the fleeting pelting of rain hitting the ceiling of whatever building he resided in.  
“But I can’t come back” There was a grumbling laugh from Jacob’s end at that.  
“Oh, you will. You don’t have much say in the matter” 

“I know…” Judas mumbled. There was a long pause “I wish it wasn’t like that. I wish you’d come to me”  
And that’s how Judas had ended up driving half way across the county in a thunderstorm just to see some psycho wolf man. Something about the drawl of “Then where are you? I’ll go the halfway” was somehow the most and least promising thing he’d heard all year. Admittedly it wasn’t the best idea. The odds of Jacob shooting him in the kneecap and dragging him back to the Veterans Center to lecture him with some overblown Darwinian speech was a lot more likely than them sitting down and having a nice chat over a cup of coffee. Yet Judas persisted, keeping a steady pace down the muddy dirt roads. He drove in silence, listening for any peggies who had yet to take shelter from the storm.

Mornings like this almost made a person forget about the holy war raging through Hope County. The storm had really put a damper on any plans to reap the land and pillage the remains and most people, both resistance and peggies, spent their time seeking shelter. Only occasionally would you hear a fire fight in the distance. A peggy defending the cabin they were squatting in or a resistance member trying to take said cabin back. If you were really optimistic, you could pass it off as some psycho who decided to go hunting in the rain. All things considered, there was a better chance it was a peggy hunter who decided to hunt some sinners rather than regular game… so still a psycho.

Judas pulled up to the meeting point. Some dinky little fishing cabin on the edge of the Henbane yet still hidden by shrubbery and dense forest. There was already a crimson Ford pulled to the side of the building, illuminated by the lazy morning sun that threatened the land through the trees and swirling grey clouds. This only fanned the flame of doubt and fear in his stomach which, this entire ride, he had spent stomping and smothering out as quickly as possible. Maybe he could’ve pulled out and left, but his car headlights had lit up the entire campground, so there was no chance in Hell that Jacob didn’t know he was here. He tapped his finger pads against the wheel while scanning the building. It looked abandoned save for the dim flicker of an oil lamp in the window. He checked the time, 7:03 AM, and took a deep breath before turning the ignition and swinging the car door open, saying a quick prayer before heading for the old cabin, silver engrained pistol tightly strapped to his side. Better safe than sorry.

The holster chafed his thighs as he climbed up the old creaking steps of that dingy little cabin. Out of all the scenarios in his head, he had expected it to happen; being slammed face first against the door as soon as it closed, his hands held behind his back by one massive one. The other man’s free hand reached for his pistol and unsheathed it, tossing it down the hall. In that scenario he had counterattacked, pushed the man away and held his gun up like a deer backed into a corner and rearing its horns towards the wolf, but he failed to take into account the soccer cleats he wore, and how they threw him off balance on the cabin’s hardwood flooring.

There was an obnoxious, hot white stinging in his ankle as Jacob released him and plopped down onto the (just as dingy) couch with all the finesse and grace of a bear. Judas stood in place, staring at his expensive looking pistol that glimmered in the light of the little window at the end of the hall, but as always, Jacob was one step ahead of him.  
“Sit” He commanded “You’re not the only one with a gun”  
Despite his growly scolding tone, Judas turned to see Jacob holding out a beer, and so, Jude reluctantly sat next to the eldest Seed. The deputy’s posture was prim and proper, back straight and hands clasped together in his lap, though easily mistaken as anxious and uncomfortable. He was anything but. He grabbed the beer from Jacob and placed it on the coffee table.  
“It’s 7 AM. And anyways, I don’t drink” He mumbled. There was a pause before Jacob clicked his tongue in interest;  
“Yet you smoke…?” There was an amused smirk on his face as he threw his arm over the back of the couch, almost as if he was pleased with himself.  
“M’dad never said anything about smokin’ being bad. Did it himself. Said somethin’ ‘bout alcohol being the devil’s drink”  
“A daddy’s boy, huh? S’plains a lot” Jacob laughed, taking a swig of his beer.  
“‘Least I didn’t burn down our house” Judas hissed irritably, bemused by his own sentence. 

Whatever Jude expected in response never came. A small “Hm” from Jacob as he took another sip, staring towards the opposing wall with that thousand-yard-stare of his.  
“I am thirsty though” Jude finally said, breaking the silence. Some smoker man down the hall chided him for his ‘woman-like’ way of requesting things. The silence hadn’t been awkward, of course, more dusty and vacant than anything. But Jude didn’t come here to just sit in silence.  
“Then drink” Jacob gestured towards the abandoned beer bottle.  
“But I… don’t drink alcohol”  
“Not my problem” He chided. They fell back into silence as Judas sulked. 

“You’re weird” Jacob finally said, and the deputy met him with a puzzled expression.  
“I mean, Peaches is submissive, obedient. But he down right hates all of it, hates me. But you…” he paused to clear his throat, turning from Judas’ childlike stare, filled with curiosity and some weird oblivious innocence (even if he was anything but) “you do as your told, even when you know you can’t. You’re weak but you got a weird will about you… a lack of human nature to be on top” he smirked, gesturing to Jude with his bottle before taking a long swig.

“Those Resistance folk, they’ll tell you what you did was brave, running away like that. But you were just scared, didn’t want to face me again, and you gave into that fear” He continued. Judas sat in silence for a long time, mulling over how to respond, fighting off the urge to just shut down completely.  
“I don’t understand… you want me to test your authority? ‘Cause I can do that… only thing I’m scared of is how strong you seem to be. Scares the hell outta me” Judas laughed uncomfortably, hated how stupid that sentence sounded. 

“Oh, yah? Why’s that?” Jacob asked, entertaining the deputy who had begun to fidget with the loose fabric of his jeans.  
Judas panicked. He had expected Jacob to just agree with him or ignore what he was trying to say. But of course he wouldn’t, in reality. Jacob was as curious as a cat, wanted to know everything about everyone.  
“You’re being used, man! And I think you know it too. But your damn… pride” he hissed “And side note? John would have a field day if you would let him touch you with a ten foot pole” he paused with a sigh “I’m scared that your pride keeps you from asking for help”  
A smirk spread across Jacob’s face, and despite his attempts to hold back his laughter, he let out a bellowing sound as he nearly laughed himself to tears.  
“What? What’s so funny?” the deputy grumbled, hating the feeling of not being taken seriously.  
“You really think I’m being used? By Joseph of all people, huh? My little brother?” Jacob mocked “You’re cute”  
Judas watched his face, examined the smirk on the other man’s face. He finally understood something about the man before him as he observed how close they’d gotten, kept his eye on the arm that had been so casually lain on the cushions behind his head.  
“You let me go” The deputy whispered. There was a white flame like tension in his stomach, every, EVERY, single voice screamed to slam his fist on the table and leave in some dramatic flare of anger. To this day, he probably couldn’t tell you why he did it. There was nothing about the situation that called for it, but Judas was known to be impulsive, and he did the most Jude thing a man could do in that moment; kissed Jacob.

The opposing man froze and tensed, resisting without moving away, angling his head down to keep his lips from the deputy. Judas had placed his hands on either sides of the Seed’s neck and stared into the shocked expression glued to his face as he pulled back to examine him.  
“Jacob” Judas whispered, like a prayer and profanity all in one. Jude could see the gears turning until something finally flickered in Jacob’s eyes, like a switch being flipped, and really, as Jacob pushed him onto his back and climbed over him, smashing their lips together, he didn’t much care what had changed so suddenly. He tried not to think about how he would wake up in a cage tomorrow. Maybe worse.

And now Jacob’s cold, calloused palm rested on Judas’ stomach, his thumb rubbing small circles. They had spent the morning in some twisted form of intimate passion, the deputy riding on top of Jacob with the confidence of a virgin (he hadn’t told Jacob yet). After the warm white ecstacy had faded from behind Judas’ eyelids, he angled his body to rest his head on Jacob’s sweaty chest, knees bent and arms tucked into himself in some type of cradling fashion. The fabric of the opposing man’s jeans rubbed against his bare skin, as the eldest Seed hadn’t really bothered with taking them off. Really, the only formality was cold lube and a condom that had probably expired.  
Jacob pressed his wet lips to Judas’ eyelids, his free hand holding the back of the deputy’s neck in a way that contradicted his gentle kisses. Judas felt fluttery; he felt weird receiving such things from the wall of a man that sat beneath him. Though, Jacob had coddled him the entire time he was at the Veterans Center. The deputy couldn’t decide if he actually cared or if he was just trying to manipulate him, take advantage of him. He hated how much he hoped for the ladder. 

He felt Jacob shift under him a bit, his arm moving to the side. The smaller man ignored him, assuming he was just trying to get more comfortable, but then there was a sting in his neck and his body almost immediately relaxed, his eyelids suddenly too heavy as a gentle tune rang in his ears and there was a gentle, blissful white fogging up his mind. Bliss. He couldn’t remember where he had even been, where he was, or what was happening as Faith’s little slice of heaven invaded his mind. There’d only been one other time he’d been in the Bliss and coming down still made his nerves burn, left his brain feeling like it was on fire. He focused as hard as he could, trying to put together the chain of memories he did have.  
Pratt’s voice echoed in his head; “You should have ran”, as the fog pressured down on his skull. He could remember hands, and his body feeling like a bag of lead as different textures of cloth slid over his far too cold skin. He remembered the softness of a radio song echoing in his ears as the heater fans of a car whirred to life. And now he was here, tied to a chair in some dank, old room. He tried to identify his surroundings, but the room was too dark and his brain could only focus on Jacob’s rough voice as he gave one of his classic Darwinian speeches.

The eldest Seed approached him, resting his hands on the armrests of the chair to drag it forward. His bright blue eyes burst with strange color as the projector shown different pictures across his face. There was a look in Jacob’s eyes that Judas’ couldn’t quite place. It felt infuriating, not being able to know what he was thinking. It felt worse knowing he had given his body to this man, probably not even 24 hours before. And there was this crushing feeling of defeat weighing on his heart. That he had been so naive too think there was anything more to this life determining situation? Something he had been shoved into just because he decided to listen to some Federal Marshal... 

He clenched his eyes shut, his teeth biting into his lower lip as a sense of pure anger washed over him. That song filled all of his senses as he let those waves of fiery take him away into the storming ocean. It wasn’t till god knows how long that he was rescued by the Whitetail Militia, waking up from that hellish “Only You” fever dream to some strange boy who panicked when he realized Jude was still alive. He phased in and out of consciousness as the two men dragged him out of the Hotel. He spent most of the dreamy state remembering being abducted with Pratt, psychologically tortured for weeks. Escaping, yet despite his better judgement he found himself drifting to the praise and touch of the eldest Seed, doing anything to get either one. So maybe Jacob put a weight in Jude’s stomach, a flutter in his heart…something he hadn’t felt since he was around high school age. Didn’t mean nothing.

The last time he had pursued a boy he ended up starved for three days with the ‘Devil’ trapped in him. At one point they had said it was a demon of perversion as a man covered in dirt and mud feverishly shouted prayer into his face, desperately reciting all the gospel he could think of. His father gave up in the end, instead roughly forcing some chicken scratch excuse of a cross onto Judas’ arm. The neighbors talked but none of them did nothing about it. Wasn’t no laws in Slab City. Now wasn’t much different, he just didn’t hate the man doing the starving or the marking this time, not even the preaching bothered him anymore. The growl in Jacob’s voice was like a purr from a cat, or more a lion, that rumbled deep in his skin. He knew he shouldn’t have, but he later would find himself in some dark corner radioing him in to hear that anything but honey smooth voice. Jacob didn’t much mind. To him it probably meant he was doing his job right, having his play thing on such a tight and dependent leash.

He didn’t know if he was supposed to be happy or what when he woke up to a new face. Some kid, couldn’t be older than 20 (the one that had abruptly dropped him and the electric chair to the floor) cooing Jude as he haphazardly tipped a bottle to his mouth. Judas felt real cold. The boy had muttered something before setting down the bottle on a little side table and picking up a razor. Jude had nearly forgotten about the blood that had dried and knotted his newly grown beard together, it had just become a part of him at this point. But it was something too fierce to even try to untangle or clean, something easier to just get rid of. He remembered trying to get the blood out that night in the creek, to no avail.

Around the last stroke the boy nicked Judas’ cheek, whispering an expletive as he pressed his thumb, and palm, to the deputy’s cheek to swipe at the blood starting to swell there. Out of pure instinct Jude had gripped his hand and held it there, bathing in the body warmth like a lizard under the desert sun. He felt the boy tense in response, knew how uncomfortable it must’ve had him, but he didn’t say much of anything about it. Maybe he understood the reaction, something inside of him figuring out this is what Judas needed right now. Before Jude knew it the mystery boy was gone and some mountain man and pretty lil’ lady were arguing about God knows what (he didn’t much care).

The Whitetails were just the start of the whole county needing the deputy’s help. ‘Course it had to be him. The big bad devil man of Hope County comes to take down the prophet. The folk didn’t seem to care that Judas agreed with said prophet. He wasn’t much allowed to have an opinion in the first place, never in his life. He was simply a tool of sin. Jacob was good at reminding him of that, giving him a purpose. He’d never really had that in life either, but it was taken from him as quickly as it was given. “The Lord giveth, and The Lord taketh”. Joseph already knew Jacob’s death would be the start of Judas really breaking down, the first time Jude would lose something he actually truly loved.


End file.
